A journal of a "targeted individual" (TI); a person subjected to organized harassment and possible mind-control activity in the form of gangstalking, directed plasma beams, masers and other unconventional energies.
My family, who have become evasive, unobjective and play dumb, do not wish to explain why I am the centerpiece of a substantial nonconsensual human experimentation activity operation in Victoria and Penticton, British Columbia, Canada.

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

05-30-2011
1340h
A number of "headshots" over the past three days, a stinging pain deep in my head and at the back, the cerebellum region, the brain's time and coordination keeper. No doubt the perps are discovering more research, and don't mind inflicting pain as usual. Per remote influence model, the pain is blockable with my arms held up next to my head, is relieved when I move about unpredictably, and is momentarily relieved if I rub my forehead and then take my hand to my hair.

It is Tuesday, and if you read the news, an election concluded and we have a majority government. Nothing will change, and who knows, it may have been rigged by remote influencing technologies. The perps had me throwing out my voter's card before I was allowed to know what it was, being airborn at that moment on its way to the recycle garbage. For whatever reason they have fucked me out of voting some five or more times, and one more to go before long with a provincial election coming soon. I seen the new premier raised the minimum wage over the next three years, though for this year it won't make a difference for us farmworkers. That is my majorallowed income gig for the last three years, and is a supplement to this disability income I get.

And again, it showed at coffee today, that yet another person hasn't noticed anything wrong with me and needs to ask what my disability is, as part of the arranged schtick of course. My farmworker colleague, now not working too, and I went out for coffee again, she stopping by in her van to pick me up outside the apartment. And yet again, there was a dude cluster in the lobby, and outside the building, and a single dude loitering at the passenger side of her vehicle, not unlike last time. His act was to be standing at the kiosk for parking meter tickets, pretending he didn't know how to use it. Last time, there was a cluster of three dudes, with the same aforementioned dude clusters in the lobby and outside the building, standing 2' from her passenger door, where I was to enter the vehicle. None seemed too bothered that they were impeding sidewalk egress, or vehicle access. The bigger the dude, the longer the public space notion takes to register.

We have shenanigans from the past two days to catch up on, as well as today's outing for a public gangstalk while ingesting the perp's favorite color reference, brown coffee.

On Sunday this apartment was in the center of a 10k race, over by the time I got out on the street at 1030h. The street the bus takes was part of the route for two blocks, so I am sure the perps loved this course change to be over top of the bus route on the same day I take the bus. A First Feral Family visitation and stayover, though unusually, I went there instead of getting picked up downtown. I was to start more gardening work there, but got held up by the prior laundry shenanigans in part; a wad of packed detergent crumbs on the drum and plastic vane of the dryer was a force play to have me take the laundry to the fifth floor only to find it busy. So up to the seventh floor, and lo, if it wasn't the former sixth floor dryer now moved to the seventh floor, and vice versa. Like WTF; I have never ever seen anyone be so utterly stupid as to getting laundry detergent powder in the dryer, and here it erupts to force me to use the same dryer on the floor immediately above. And the stairwell led to apartment 707, the one immediately above mine, source of floor/ceiling pounding for four years. Their door was open and an apparent move was in progress; furniture in the hallway and a blue mattress and bed visible through the open door. No big deal, as I see arranged furniture in public all the time, even immediately outside the crew bus for us farmworkers in a rural region.

And so the perps remind me that with a change in the apparent resident upstairs that I should also get a change in the noise pattern arriving from there, over my head no matter where I am in the apartment. But no, the same pounding of 12" of concrete and steel overhead is still erupting, and following me around. Not to mention the stereo music noise coming from there too, delivered while shaving this morning. So why this faux moving scenario after sending me up the stairwell after messing up the dryer and making sure that I saw it before I put my clothes in it? Don't know, it was all of three seconds of viewing as I walked by, so what was the deal?

Other Sunday inanity with the FFF was that they awakened me after a 10.5 hour sleep to hold me up for the day, while my perp abetting mother ran the vacuum cleaner. Once up, she switched to another vacuum cleaner in the floor below, to keep me noise and vortex acclimated through breakfast. Even more suprising is that she had a shower beforehand, and she hardly ever takes one, baths only. So with breakfast over I then have my shower and shave, and then with the rain, it was a forced idle as she was waiting for the carpet cleaner. And lo, if this too wasn't another suck operation, the vacuum cleaner in the van, and a hose in through the front door and into the house. I wasn't there for the most part, being asked to take the vehicle into get through a car wash that proved to be a fucking nightmare as the signs weren't lighting up and I had to back out as there was no notice to tell me what the payment scheme was. (Go to the store, and pay for it and get a code number that is entered into the keypad to start it. Having been through this one before, somehow I totally "forgot" (read, was mind-fucked). And in doing this the driver's side window got left open and then the rain came in to wet the door portion, all to play more games with water and where it came from. Then with two stores to pay, and getting the wrong one, and the attendant dude following me from one to the next, I finally got to go through the car wash. But lo, if the dinging noise didn't fire off and the fuckers wouldn't let me figure it out for a few minutes as it was the seatbelt.

One of the two lighted signs inside the car wash was conked out, the closest and more useful one, and so the other one was read through sheets of cascading water outside. And big flap drums of red fabric travelled past the vehicle, pumelling it clean, and then more water jettings, then this brown goo, a wax application seemingly, and more red fabric pumelling, and finally drive onto the rinse location only to find that the vehicle was only partially rinsed as it cut out too soon. Then the drying blowers, then out of there, only to have the fugly red and yellow DHL van cross my path. Then back to the FFF house with my red-heavy vehicular gangstalking contingent, to find the carpet cleaner occupying the driveway when there was room for him to park and leave the garage door unobstructed. Which was identical to last weeks' belligerent trades dude, blocking the entire driveway when there was ample room to leave the garage access unimpeded. Do trades dudes go to the same school for belligerent house visit manners, or is there some other asshole who decides it for them?

Then lunch, and then onto downtown to drop off used books that had been assembled earlier for the city-wide annual book sale. The usual gangstalking consort, and especially notable when they arranged a motorcycle to lead the string of five vehicles ahead, one red and four greyscale vehicles. And at a low speed, as normally they have the motorcycle go ripping by for maximum noise and jumping into my lane as I am about to change into it, the "come from nowhere" stunt again. This was to pick up the dementia act, the FFF father/criminal. I had two U-Haul vans from Arizona on vehicular gangstalking too, and could that be because we were about to pay a visit to the ex who had got back from Arizona some six days earlier? Given the perps' fixation over provenance, including travellers, I would not doubt it.

So... the ex was in a pissy mood for no reason, and terse about the Arizona visit and our daughter arranged to be absent. This, while having pale brown sandwiches under the plastic transparent panelling overhead, and copious amounts of sircraft noise, motorcycle noise, neighbor loud stereo noise and lawnmower noise. Can we say noise inundation, as it was the worst such noise arrangement for the some 20 times I have been there. And the dementia father act always got curious over the aircraft noise, wanting to see what it was, and I suppose this was a big FFF comparison event. The ex was in white pants (Unfavored) and an orange (Unfavored) colored top just to complement the perps' current color games.

That dreary episode was over in 90 minutes or so, and then return to deposit the dementia act, and continue onto the FFF house. As it was sunny, it gave me time to start and finish the soil sifting after having it dry out on the patio for two days. I had lifted this mulch cover off two days earlier and left it out to dry. And the perps have been obsessed over soil digging, soil sifting, soil re-location, and lo, if they didn't put on the aircraft and motorcycle noises, and added in the hot rod and performance muffler noises too, as it seems that a nearby suburban tertiary road, San Juan Rd., has now become a race track for the passing noisy vehicles. Or at least, that is the noisescape as I cannot actually see them going by, being obstructed by a neighboring house and garden. And I always find it curious my mother does this napping thing whenever I am working in the backyard, doing digging, weeding, barrowing and the like. It seems the perps need to have a sleeping person nearby me to access while the noise capers go off while touching or letting go of plants.

All kinds of mind-fuck adversity came on while soil sifting; making me miss something when attempting to pick it up was a sure fire way to raise the rage-ification level. Typically a noise erupted while the assholes engraged me, though not out loud for the most part.

And that evening, 60 Minutes and viewing Lara Logan's harrowing experience of rape and total pummeling by the males of this large Egyptian crowd who for some reason decided to turn on her as she was reporting. The lights for the camera went out and they had to swap batteries to continue, and then the men surrounding her turned menacing and despite her security detail and crew members, she was pulled into the crowd of males who then ripped her clothes off and started other things, and too, took pictures of her with their camera phones. She was getting pulled and groped en masse, everywhere, and when the surge moved toward a female enclave, one fully burka woman came over and draped herself over, as did a few others, and the groping males backed off. It saved her, and a few minutes later a group of soldiers beating the crowd back with batons moved in, slung her over one soldier and beat their way back to where the rest of the party was, and got her to hospital. A day later she got flown to the US to recuperate.

Then later in the evening, after getting a fill of disgusting obese males, bald heads and red heads, and attempting to find the skating, why it was her blondeness, Wendy Mesley to interupt scheduled programming to tell us that Osama Bin Laden was dead after a firefight in his compound by a stealth attack by US commandos. The Great Turban Visage Show is now ending, to indulge my cynical take on the news and how it is coordinated with many things that are part of the harassment themes. And have I not mentioned the proliferation of turbaned (Unfavored) gangstalkers that get planted where I work and travel, some on "just stand there" duty like a street sentry as I drive or walk by?

And too, when the news of Sadam Hussein's capture was learned, I was also at the FFF house on a Sunday and online, and it was me who revealed for my perp abetting parents who hadn't yet settled into their TV for the evening. And so another Sunday revelation of the same magnitude. And for now at least, I will NOT count this coincidence as truly odd or in any way arranged around my circumstances. As in NOT of sufficient substance, though other TI's may have their own stories that may also have similar levels of peculiarity. I am sure I was not the only TI for whom this news might of been arranged.

Then the next day, as mentioned, I got screwed into a 10.5 hour sleep to give me a late start. Then after lunch, always a critical harassment time, I did the driving for my mother to vote in the nationa election, and then to the suburban mall/plaza for her banking. I got mindfucked into sitting there in the vehicle when the original intent was for me to depart for the bus, giving the car keys back to my mother. So while sitting in front of the red Photina hedge that ran some 150', why, they ran all manner of vehicles on the street behind it, and slipped in three red vehicles beside over the 20 minutes of doing time.

Then when the bus decision was sorted out, the bus stop was about 80' away, and I wasn't there more than 30 seconds when the excessive waving and pointing couple arrived to stand around and read the bus schedule, and make the act look legit. She sat down on the bench, but the male stood beside the bench, some 3' away, and kept standing there, and not sitting down. Totally perverse IMHO. Then after five minutes or so, an identically color dressed male in the same navy blue and tan brown pants arrives with his 3' curtain rod in a long plastic bag and then stands 2' from me, basically bookending me between these same dressed males. So.. enough of that bullshit, I get up and wait outside the shelter so I am not between this fucking act which I know so well. The perps make it abundantly clear that I cannot stand having assholes standing around me for no seeming purpose. My supposed dementia act father was doing this consistently until I reamed his ass a few times and pointed out that it cannot possibly be a coincidence if he engages in the same behavior as gangstalkers and supposedly has dementia. For the record, he purposely went out of character once and was direct and lucid, and then buggered off so he couldn't be talked to. He still manages to stop in mid doorway with his bullshit helpful door act so to leave his arm trailing behind, and have I not complained that the perps are constantly on my ass at doorways? Some dementia.

Anyhow, the bus arrives and stops short of its usual stop point so the Fuckwits in navy blue jackets and the woman get on first. The curtain rod male came to gangstalk me at the rear bench seat the entire ride, and going from recall, the freakshow wasn't too bad.

Then onto the local supermarket on the way back, to get yogurt and lo, if they aren't continuing with planting a dude there, one who goes back and forth. And lo, if they didn't screw me out of my current type of yogurt, the second kind since I got screwed out of the first kind. So.. back to the first kind again, as it "happened" to be there when the other wasn't, and so this insane game over my yogurt consumption continues. The second kind comes in a a white plastic tub with a full panel brown graphics on it, and I suspect that is the main reason the perps are screwing with my yogurt choices. The brownstalking has been increased of late, with even the dudes (Unfavored), usually the problematic gangstalkers from the perps' perspective, are wearing more brown and brown combinations in their clothing. Even the negroes are sporting three kinds of brown objects sometimes.

2055h
Other nonsense tonight was the overhead pounding, at least twice and we aren't don yet of course. So much for new apparent tenants changing anything. And regular readers will know that it seems, as it does for the past four residence location that there is no one else who really lives next door, or even in the building. The three residence ago 10 story, 140 apartment building, seemed particularly derelict, and even more so when they arranged to have the fire alarm go off at 0200h, only to have a smattering of supposed tenants outside. That didn't cover the fire department hijinx when I got back from my walk around town at that time.

I am going to call this one done for today, as I am getting a mind block about adding any more detail, and no point in staring at the screen like a perp or shill.

2 comments:

Anonymous
said...

More dream invasions. Oddly enough, the dream invasions they pull spill over into the wakening stage. The dream involved me looking for some missing items. Then I find myself in a house somewhere, where I hear female laughter, like I typically hear from female perps. There is no putative source. Also, there are sounds, like something a Gibbon would make, except not vocalized quite as rapidly. And when I was lying awake, I found myself "making" the throaty Gibbon sounds myself. It was odd, like they were emanating from my own throat, but they were definitely not sounds I would make. The cover story is that I was lying on the pillow on my side, hence, every throat sound I make would be transmitted and amplified and hence could be interpreted as a variety of sounds.

It took a couple of minutes for this charade to end. Imagine that, making sounds like a Gibbon! It was definitely the perps engaging in Monkey shines, going apeshit per usual.

I get them regularly, though I am not allowed to recall them for the most part. One that they allowed me to recently remember was a scene where I was helping Americans escape from somehere, like a refugee situation. I thought this was particularly odd in that they make sure I have no empathy with refugees from anywhere else. And they rile me up big time when the odd refugee ship arrives on these shores. One in Victoria at the link below.

About Me

I am surveilled, harassed and gangstalked everywhere I go 24/7/365. Most of the city's population and all its civic services appear to have been co-opted in supporting this depravity. Mind control research is part of this activity, but not all. As an example, I was controlled to drive down the wrong direction of a one-way arterial street where all oncoming traffic was rerouted. All my experience, knowledge and judgement were temporarily hijacked and subverted from a remote location.
This is my journal of all things irregular and of harassment proportions. Those who find this blog and are not a TI are best advised to read the Essential Introductory Postings (above) first to aquaint themselves to the extra-conventional reality that I deal with every waking moment.